


Mild Nausea

by marinatedsauce



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-16 11:04:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2267361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marinatedsauce/pseuds/marinatedsauce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oikawa drinks too much. </p>
<p>Very short, written for Mayathesoldier for a prompts meme.</p>
<p>"You don't have to stay."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mild Nausea

They’re barging into the place like thieves, the lights are out and not one of them cares to lean over and fix that. Kuroo has a lip between Oikawa’s teeth, or is it the other way around, and somewhere in the mess he’s located Oikawa’s pants and has them off in less time than it takes him and it sort of shames him how he’s so used to Oikawa’s zipper.

Oikawa moans aloud, adds a quick: “dear Jesus,” his hand tight around Kuroo’s butt cheek, holding it for dear life as Kuroo swiftly has his cock in his hand. His grip is a breath less than painful and Oikawa stutters some more litanies about how _heavenly_ this is. Kuroo grins unabashedly; he enjoys this mess, maybe even loves it! He loves it so much he’s kissing its foul mouth and pushing it down onto the couch.

“Oh, no, Iwaizumi, he’ll kill us,” Oikawa utters but it’s so difficult to take him seriously considering that he’s pushing his hips upwards and in the very general direction of Kuroo’s own cock.

“We’ll be quick,” Kuroo doesn’t need to comfort him but Oikawa’s eyes gleam, oh so _drunkenly_. He pulls back from Oikawa. He assesses the damage, Oikawa’s face is slack and his shirt has more than two spills of tequila. Were they celebrating something? It was just another Friday night.  

“Are you sure you didn’t have too much to drink?” he mutters aloud but Oikawa’s mouth pulls back and instead of replying, he looks pained.

 The heaves leaving Oikawa’s mouth are familiar. He’s drunk himself into oblivion and Oikawa’s stomach isn’t a big fan of such state.

Kuroo reaches for Oikawa, but the gaudy man gives him his back, so he settles for rubbing circles on his lower back. Upon a second inspection, he decides that Oikawa really needs to take that shirt off because it was soaked with _both_ of their sweat. He reaches to unbutton Oikawa’s shirt but when the man turns to Kuroo, Kuroo can see just how messed up Oikawa feels. The usual grin is gone, his mouth a pursed line with sheen of sweat on his upper lip, and his eyelids droop, as if the weight of his eyelashes is enough. A green shade spreads on his face.

“Hey, come here,” he edges closer to Oikawa, wraps a gentle hand around his upper arm, steadies him and brings him closer for inspection.

“I might have…” Oikawa starts but a panicked look takes over his features. Kuroo has a part of a second before Oikawa bends over his lap and hurls.

“Oh…,” it comes from Oikawa and it’s a whisper because he’s terrified. Just as they assess the glob of vomit on the couch, and on Kuroo, the front door unlocks. “Shit!”

“What the fuck!” comes from Iwaizumi, because the moment he steps into his apartment, a flushed Kenma on his left, he sees that not only are they half-naked.

“Hey, he just got trashed, ok?” Kuroo is quick; he adjusts Oikawa’s pants on. Even with vomit on his brand new jeans, he is formidable. Iwaizumi would have torn into his neck if he didn’t look so sure to clean up the mess.

Kenma gives him a puzzled look and Kuroo sighs ever so softly, not wanting Iwaizumi to feel his absolute terror. Like the true angel Kenma is, he nudges Iwaizumi into the apartment and straight into his bedroom. Kuroo has half a mind to ask himself if they should even be fucking on the first date but Oikawa groans.

“I’m sorry,” the groan seems to mean, but Kuroo doesn’t need apologies. He gets into action. His pants need to be washed and so will the couch, and if they don’t hurry; the stench will stay there _forever._

He brings clean towels from the kitchen cabinet and wipes slowly, not wanting to spread or even soak it more into the fabric. Oikawa watches him with small interest, his face looking less shit and more normal, sleepy even.

“You don’t have to stay,” Oikawa mumbles as Kuroo is on his third towel.

“And let you take the credit? Hell no,” he spits, not unkindly. He throws Oikawa a small smile above his shoulder.

“Iwa-chan knows I don’t care to clean up, he’ll know it’s you,” Oikawa says.

“Iwaizumi doesn’t care for much, but I’m sure this couch cost him more than all of your shirts,” he jokes but the sullen look in Oikawa’s eyes worries him but Oikawa doesn’t talk back, he just lies onto his back on the clean couch and gives Kuroo his back.

Iwaizumi usually didn’t care less about how often the two ‘idiots’ made utter fools of themselves, he just wanted none of it in the living room, the kitchen and the foyer. The last was added because of a certain drunken encounter last September, when Kuroo had an insane idea about Oikawa’s thighs. Now, after cleaning up, Kuroo realizes that they party too much. They should go on regular dates more often. Somewhere nice, because if Oikawa wears his stupid glossy shirts one more time, he swears he’ll tear them with his own teeth. Before his crotch gets an idea about that imagery in his mind, he tabs Oikawa’s back.

He’s sleeping softly, so he finishes his job by carrying him into bed bridal style.

 

 

When Oikawa opens his eyes, he finds the smell of vanilla in his nose and his eyelashes brush against soft dark hairs.

Kuroo, his brain tells him, stayed over. His heart does a stupid jump. His stomach stays quiet. He hopes it’ll sleep till his brain is less befuddled. He’s shocked he doesn’t have a hangover, but he doesn’t try too hard to recall the shots he drank last night.

_And now, I’ll just cuddle,_ he thinks as he borrows closer to Kuroo, enjoying how his own soap smells on the man.


End file.
